Tragic Love Story
by Trying to Break Your Heart
Summary: "I had not intended to love him."-Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte. A short one-shot on violate. Violet wishes she could still have Tate, but she knows that can never happen again- and so does he. They can only be together in their fantasies. Rated M for a sexual situations and a little spicy language and the show is rated M so I thought that would make sense (kinda dark). Thanks :)


**I recently finished watching the first AHS season and I fell in love with violate. I literally just wrote this in an hour and a half and if it is complete crap please feel free to tell me. I just needed to get this out of my system- Haha :) Tell me what you think, though so I know anyway. It is completely unedited and I haven't even read it over, so please go for it on any reviews whether they be good, bad or beyond ugly. Thanks for reading xoxo TtBYH**

* * *

It was four years since she told him to go away. Four years of him watching her silently in the glooming darkness. Every shadow, every lift in the lifeless air of Murder House was him watching her, following her. The Harmons had worked hard to try and keep people from moving in, but after a while, it became apparent that people would never become uninterested in the infamous haunted house. Every time that they let people move in to "stay," it only added to the collection of hopeless souls roaming the dreadful halls in a damning worse than hell.

He had nothing better to do than watch her, for however hard she would try to prove her freedom from him, she would also never escape the realm of impossibility and blackness that was their everyday lives. She knew that he watched her, he may have made himself invisible to the visual eye, but she still felt him in the very air she breathed. She never said anything to him; how could she? He was her mother's rapist, he was a murderer, and a sociopath… but deep down she still felt for him with the same intensity that he treasured her with. Unfortunately, she could never admit to anyone, not even to herself, that she felt this way. She would never forgive him, but he would always love her.

He had not appeared to her in over four years. She felt him, and though she hadn't seen him in so long, she remembered him as if it were only minutes since their last meeting. She _knew_ that he was always there… With her. Around her. Inside her very being. She never gained the strength, though, to reach out to him while he was right beside her.

Until, that is, on a day very much like today. Some think that it never rains in California, but it truthfully does. To be fair, it doesn't rain as much in Southern California than in Northern, but it still most _certainly _rains. And when it rains in Los Angeles… it pours around Murder House. That day was in late November, the sky was storming, the trees were dancing, and the wind was screaming. Violet Harmon had been lying in her bed at the time, flipping through dog-eared copy of _Jane Eyre_. She wasn't reading it so much as she was reciting words once memorized, for when one spends an endless amount of time in the same place, one tends to subconsciously pick things up. The last "owners" of the house were not big on reading, so Violet only had selective options to begin with. Bored, she made a self-note to acquire more books on next Halloween.

"'I had not intended to love him,' " she read aloud, drenched with solemnity. Just then, lightning crackled and thunder tumbled through her windows and over the house. She shivered. There were currently no valid residents in the house, so there was no heating available. Dead or alive, nobody is completely immune to the cold, and Violet had always been freezing. Violet thought about Jane, trying to find their similarities, how they were so much alike. Honestly, though, they were nothing alike all. Not only had Violet not _intended _to love him, she _intended_ to hate everybody and everything. That was until she met him… that was when everything changed. He was so different from any boy, man, or teenager that she had ever made acquaintance with before. Instead of bringing her to the light, he basked with her in the darkness, but it only when it was too late did she realize that he didn't love the darkness as she did. He _was_ the darkness.

Every day she secretly missed him, but it was on the rare day like this, when the sky was dark and the wind was howling that she wanted him to come back. It took everything in her power not to simply close her eyes and say his name…

"Tate."

He appeared in seconds, just as she knew he would. He looked exactly the same as she remembered: wild blonde locks, terrifyingly deep brown eyes, pale skin, and the 90's grunge outfit risen back from hell. He gawked at her with a concern and passion that could never match that of another man throughout time. Time. The one thing that they both had an everlasting supply of.

"Hi, Violet," his voice was hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in years… Maybe he hadn't. They continued to stare at each other for what felt like hours. Neither of them moved, neither knew if they wanted to. Finally, he took a nervous step forward, but as soon as he was met with her piercing stare, he reluctantly stepped back. "Vi…" he started.

"No, shhh," she whispered to him, "not now." The lightning continued to zing, giving her room a periodic effect like a strobe light, or a camera flashing. "Right now, I just need you." With that, she sauntered up to him like a lioness to her prey, or maybe even like a curious doe to a fresh new flower. It was almost too perfect, but Violet chose to ignore it, and let instinct take over.

When she was less than a foot away from him, she touched her hand to his chest and began walking him backwards, until he hit the dark green wall behind him. He watched with uneasy eyes as she came closer to him, and when she was less than an inch away, she let everything go. Within seconds, she caught his lips in a desperate tangle of passion and long-lost reconciliation. He matched her quickly, and grabbed her to turn them around. He had her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist and their lips still unjustifiably locked together. He bit her bottom lip, and when she gasped at the sensation, he took the opportunity to probe her into opening her mouth.

After several minutes of the ongoing battle of their tongues, Violet pushed him backward several feet and Tate found himself falling onto her bed. She climbed over him and instead of returning to his lips, she delicately kissed a trail down his neck until she reached the collar of his old striped T-shirt. With the precision of hours of fantasized practice, she took the collar of his shirt between her teeth and pulled the rest of it with her hands over his head. He, quick to catch up, unzipped her dress from the back, and swiftly lowered it down her legs along with her tights. She wore no bra.

They simply gazed at each other for about two seconds and then they went for it head first. He flipped them around so that he was leaning above her, and kissed her down to her breasts, where he fondled her until she thought she couldn't take it anymore. She slid her hand up his leg and grabbed his hardened length through his boxers. She pumped her hand around him once, twice, and before she was able to try for a third he grabbed her hand and rasped, "Please, I don't think I'll last much longer." Violet simply nodded, and without hesitation, he tore off her panties and ridded himself of his boxers. He spread her legs open with his knee and looked into her eyes, asking one last time for permission. When she nodded again, he took her right leg and lifted it over his shoulder before pushing inside of her. He slid out of her only to dive right back in, hitting her core. "Fuckkkk… I love you, Violet. I've always loved you, I always will. I can't be without you again. Please don't make me leave again. _I love you!_"

"I love you too," she responded, watching him through eyes hooded with lust, "I'll love you forever." She held her hands to the back of his neck and brought him down for one more excruciatingly wonderful kiss. He pushed into her four more times before they both were sent into a blinding climax, shouting each other's names…

"_Violet!"_

"_Tate!"_

* * *

Tate. For that very reason would she never be able to say his name out loud. She had not intended to love him, but she did anyway, and that was what scared her the most. After all that he'd done, she still loved him, but indulging herself in such a love would never become a reality again. He would never be able to make up for the things that he did, the people he hurt, or the pain that he caused. She would let that love go, because theirs was a tragic love story. It was never meant to be a happy ending.


End file.
